Don't Ever Say Goodbye
by minachandler
Summary: Missing scene from 3x20. After making love to him, Felicity realises that saying goodbye to Oliver is not an option. Smutty angst.


The smell of melting wax started to fill Felicity's nostrils as she lay on her side, her back to Oliver, watching over the edge of the bed as the two candles' flames start to flicker. She tried her hardest not to think about the inevitable goodbye that was looming between them, or the fact that he expected her to just go back to her city – their city – without him.

She'd known this was meant to be goodbye – that his mind was made up, that the only thing that was worse than leaving him in Nanda Parbat was not telling him how she felt. But when he had lifted her off her feet and flicked his tongue over her nipple and dipped his head between her legs, she had forgotten everything, and her worries had dissolved in the high of her climax.

Now, though, they were returning, and all she could think about was Oliver, her Oliver, being subject to whatever Ra's had in store for him. Her mind was plagued with thoughts of him staying in this hellhole, of the inescapable moment when he would have to say his farewells to the people he loved.

Thankfully, her thoughts were interrupted when she felt the lightest of kisses on the small scar on her shoulder blade. She couldn't help but smile – even now, the mere brush of his lips on her skin sent tingles up her spine.

"Mm," she said, "you would think having a scar would feel more badass, but I can't even see it."

"Sorry," he murmured, but he continued kissing that same spot on the back of her shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb. "I thought you were asleep."

"I wasn't," she told him, and she let out a long breath when she felt his stubble graze the nape of her neck.

"What's on your mind?" he asked softly.

She turned on her side, then, so she was facing him, and his head was tilted a little to one side as his eyes met hers and he regarded her enquiringly.

"How much you mean to me," she said, and she realised her voice was trembling. Only now did she register her eyes becoming wet, and she made to move her face away, but he didn't let her. His calloused palm was rough against her skin as he cradled her cheek with his hand.

"Hey," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead, "I love you too."

Felicity took a deep breath, looking up at him, and mercifully, his words calmed her a little. "I just… I don't want to leave you here. Not now. Not ever."

"I get it," he said gently. "But you know why I have to stay here."

"Yeah," she said faintly. "I know. Just – the thought of having to say goodbye to you, again –"

"I don't want to think about that either," Oliver admitted, and she closed her eyes, wishing that somehow it was possible to get him out of this – some way, agreement be damned, that he could escape.

But then she felt his lips touch her right eyelid, following the tracks the tears had left on her face. He did the same with her other eye, kissing her tears away, and when his mouth finally met hers, she could taste salt and comfort and – yes – love.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she could see the concern in his eyes.

She answered him with a kiss. Her mouth bruising his, the prickle of his stubble created a wonderful friction between their skin. She ran her tongue along his lip, parting his mouth, before matching each thrust of his tongue with her own.

Already, she could feel the familiar ache of arousal in her groin, moistness pooling between her legs. Oliver allowed her to clamber on top of him so she was straddling his waist, and when she broke away, he was gasping and she could feel his hard-on against her thigh.

"I love you," she said, and she kissed him again, sucking on his lower lip and letting out a moan when she felt his hand part her legs, dragging his fingers along the wetness of her inner thigh until they reached her damp centre.

She could feel him smile against her lips, still breathless, as he replied, "I know." And despite the worry she had felt, and was still feeling, she couldn't help but smile too as she lowered her mouth to his neck. Her palm flat on his chest, her fingers teased his right nipple, tracing the outline of his Bratva tattoo and running her forefinger down the length of his scar. Felicity looked up at Oliver – his hand had stilled and was resting between her thighs – and when her hand wandered down, following the trail of hair that started just below his abdomen, she was gratified at the groan that escaped his lips when she cupped him with both her hands.

"Felicity…" he whispered, and there was such reverence in his voice that she was surprised when, in one move, he easily flipped them over so he was on top of her. His weight was warm atop her small body as he began to kiss her in his earnest, as if he was a man drowning and her breath was his only lifeline. And all the while, his fingers danced around her entrance, exploring, teasing, occasionally slipping inside – she rocked her hips each time he did, only for him to withdraw and the thrumming ache for him between her thighs to increase tenfold within her.

When they finally came up for air, he leaned his forehead against hers, and his gaze was aflame with want, his need for her digging into her thigh. He pushed back a few stray strands of hair that had stuck to her cheek, darkened with sweat. And then Oliver just looked at her, really looked, not doing or saying anything, but with a look of intense concentration, as if he was trying to memorise every feature on her face.

"What?" she said eventually, but nevertheless with a nervous smile on her face.

He smiled, and for a moment, Oliver Queen looked almost shy as he said, "I'll never be able to say this enough times, but… you're beautiful."

She fought the blush that immediately crept up her neck and to her cheeks, and it was clear he seemed to notice. His gaze travelled down, his eyes caressing her from head to toe, and when he looked back up at her, the love in his eyes was unmistakable. For the first time, she felt every inch as beautiful as he said she was.

And this time, when he was inside her, it was slower than their first time, without the novelty of acquainting themselves with each other's bodies. She reached up with one hand, clutching the bed's hangings for support, as he kissed the side of her neck, and when he thrust a little deeper inside her, she cried out his name, a frisson of pleasure jolting up her spine and settling deep in her belly. At the same time, she heard a loud tearing sound and realised, when she had a fistful of red satin in her hand, that she had ripped the hanging off the bed frame. Oliver noticed this too, and when he met her eyes, he shook his head, and they shared a smile.

She moved her hips below him, panting as she arched into him, until it was impossible to tell where she ended and he began. He growled – there was no other word for the feral sound that came out of his mouth – and his lips travelled from where they were on her neck, up to her cheek and to her lips.

"Felicity," he breathed, "Felicity –"

"Me too," she said, and her breaths were coming out more laboured now as they continued to move together. She made to bury her face in his neck but he lifted her chin so that her eyes were level with his.

"I want you to – I want to see when you –" he began to say, and she smiled, her hands on his biceps. Her nails dug into his arms as, after one final thrust, she came at the same time as Oliver, with several pants and moan that she could not for the life of her control. Her lips met his, more than a little messily, but he didn't seem to care. He whispered "I love you" to her for maybe the fifth time that night, but Felicity knew she wouldn't tire of those words even after the hundredth time.

He moved off her and she wrapped her arm around his chest, her hair spilling onto his shoulder. They were both silent for a minute, each of them catching their breath, and when she looked up at Oliver, they both shared a smile. It was different from all the other smiles they had exchanged, she knew, and she could see his entire face lit up when his eyes met hers.

"You know," she said, "whenever I imagined us together, it was always in the foundry."

He raised an eyebrow and then laughed. "I knew there was another reason you bought me that bed."

"Well, I didn't always imagine we made it to the bed," she teased back, and he smiled.

"The only thing is, the foundry is – was," he amended, "– a little crowded."

"Oh, I figured I could just computer override the lock," Felicity said. Then she considered. "God, imagine John walking in on us."

"I'm sure John would get over it," said Oliver. He shook his head. "If anything, if he had his way, he'd lock us in there himself."

She laughed. "True."

But his smile faded a little as he said, "I'll miss it."

Felicity could feel her own smile fade as well. "Me too."

"You always called it home," Oliver observed.

"It was," she agreed. "Even before I upgraded our tech and fixed it up and got you the bed – it was the first place on earth where I felt like I belonged. It was home." And, as she hoped, her words brought the smile back to his lips. He leaned down and kissed her, and when he broke away, she could see the smile in his eyes too, and in the curve of his jaw.

"It was our home," he said, and for a moment, they both fell silent, thinking about the state of the foundry now.

"I guess what they say is true," Felicity said. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."

"Is that your way of saying you'll miss me?" he asked, and as soon as he said it, she could tell he regretted it after seeing the look on her face. She knew he had meant it in that gently mocking way of his that she usually loved, but once again, the prospect of what was to come for Oliver, the fact that she would have to leave him here in this desert to become the next Demon's Head, resurfaced to the forefront of her mind.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't mean –"

She shook her head. "You don't have to apologise to me. Not now. Not ever. And of course I'll miss you," she said, and she surprised herself in managing to maintain her composure. "But like you said, you have to stay. He did his bit, and now you have to do yours." Despite everything, she let out a small chuckle. "And I know you're too good a person to even think about double-crossing him –"

"You're probably the only person on earth who thinks I'm too good a person," Oliver said with a smile. "But it's not just that. He showed me what he was willing to do – to the people I love, to the city I love, to who I am – if I didn't accept his offer. So if I do what he wants, everyone and everything I care about stays safe. And you're at the top of that list, Felicity."

"And what about you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," he said, and it was clear from her face that she wasn't convinced. He reached out and took her hand, and she squeezed it in response, finding comfort in his larger palm. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Felicity said immediately without even a moment's hesitation. "I always have."

"Then trust that I'm doing this because I have to, and because I love you."

Her hold on him became that little bit tighter when he said that. They lay in silence together for a while, and she was soothed a little by the regular sound of his breathing.

But then she felt a kiss on her forehead as he slowly extricated himself from her grasp and sat up.

"I'm just going to go check on Thea," he said in explanation. "I won't be long, though, and I'm sure she's fine."

"Sure," said Felicity, watching with slight amusement as he narrowed his eyes looking for his underwear. Finally, after reaching under the bed, he found his boxers and his jeans. He pulled them on quickly and then went over to the chair he was sitting on earlier, where Felicity remembered him discarding his shirt,.

After putting it on, he came back to where she was on the bed, leaning down and running his fingers through her hair.

"I hope you don't mind," he started to say, but she interrupted him with a kiss.

"Of course not," she told him. "Take your time. She's your sister, and she did kind of come back from the dead, you know."

He smiled, before giving her a long, lingering kiss. When he moved away, he regarded her with another smile, his eyes lighting up and the dimples evident in his cheeks.

And as she watched him leave, she realised she couldn't leave him here. She thought back to the powders she had stolen after confronting Ra's and stashed in the bathroom a few doors down.

Felicity got up, opening one of the drawers next to the bed and finding a kimono style gown and matching slippers, which she slipped on. It was crazy, she knew, but she reasoned to herself that she had just made love to Oliver Queen, and she had basically witnessed his sister come back from the dead. Crazier things had happened, after all.

And if it meant she didn't have to say goodbye to the man she had known in her heart for months that she loved, she was more than willing to take drastic measures.


End file.
